


The Way

by Nununununu



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Choices, Family, Gen, Protectiveness, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: It doesn’t go like this.Five times in which Din might choose to remove his helmet in the presence of others. But this isn't really about that.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	The Way

**Author's Note:**

> Contains a possible way episode 16 might go (written and posted before it airs). Includes a brief mention of what's perceived to be character death.
> 
> Update: edited one line

“Leave us,” The Armourer says.

It’s not to Din. He waits on his knees, Grogu perched on his lap, while the others file in silence out of the room.

“You will tell me what happened,” The Armourer states when they’re alone. Din feels the weight of the single light shining on him, on his bared head, on the expression that, after a long time, he finally learned to make into a mask.

It doesn’t feel like a mask in this moment.

“There were others,” Din begins, and he tells her. Tells her of the Jedi and other Force users they found over the many years of their search, of the excuses and reasons they gave, of the slightly different but ultimately similar answers they all provided as to why they could not train the child.

“Grogu,” Din says, and Grogu’s ears perk up as he coos, twisting on Din’s lap to look up at him, a tiny hand going up to graze the generous streaks of grey in Din’s beard.

The Armourer doesn’t seemingly react, but Din’s aware of her, aware of the way she’s seated opposite him, the way her body is inclined ever so slightly towards the child.

“I first took my helmet off in the presence of others twenty years ago,” Din says next.

“For his sake,” There is no uncertainty in the Armourer’s voice. A distinct lack of any other emotion there either. Bowing his head in agreement, Din ignores the impulse building within his fingers to twitch.

There might be a need for them to form fists. But just perhaps there might not. He is here, after all, to find out.

“Yes. I have worn it at times since.”

This is when there is censure apparent in the line of her back and the stiffening of her shoulders, but there is also an unexpected withholding of it. Restraint. An indication that he should go on. So Din continues until he is certain he has never spoken so much before, until his throat aches and Grogu twists around properly to brush his hand over the top of Din’s cuirass, as if reaching for where it hurts.

“I’m all right,” Din tells him then, closing his gloved hand gently over those small fingers.

“You did all of this for his sake,” The Armourer states, when he has finally run out of words.

“Yes,” There is no need for Din to clarify this, but he does so all the same.

“Foundlings come first,” The Armourer rises. Neither of them are in any way young now, but her movement are as fluid and steady as they have always been. The light casts her shadow long across the floor. “This child is your son.”

If there is acceptance or even approval there in her words, it is buried deep. But there is the possibility all the same. An acknowledgement also, perhaps. The life Din has led with Grogu since failing to see him returned to his people has not followed the Way.

But it has been – and is – the way that is best for the child.

“Grogu,” Din corrects the Armourer and agrees with her both at once. Grogu is blinking more heavily, sleepy by now in his arms.

“Grogu,” The Armourer inclines her head to Din and his child, and Din leaves her there afterwards, when things are finished, and feels no need to return.

It doesn’t go like this.

\--

It doesn’t go like this, either.

“He has a face!” Cara crows, leaning in over her spotchka to give Din a friendly punch on the shoulder, “Damn it, now I owe Greef _so_ many credits.” She raises her eyebrows at him as she raises her glass back up to her mouth, “Can we pretend I didn’t see it?”

Din just raises an eyebrow right back at her. He’s half-smiling, can’t help it, even though he hasn’t even drunk anywhere near enough yet to have the excuse.

“Ah, who am I kidding, I’m not going to pretend that,” Shoving her hair out of her face as she wipes her mouth on the back of her glove, Cara sighs. Brightening back up, she pushes her emptied glass aside, resting her elbow on the table between them and offering her hand, “Reckon you can beat me this time?”

“I do,” Draining his own drink, Din accepts.

He doesn’t, but it doesn’t feel like losing all the same.

\--

This time it’s definitely supposed to feel like losing. Din’s well aware that it should.

He’s well aware that it should be agonising.

“Tell me something,” Moff Gideon speaks slowly, leisurely, lingering over the words. He’s enjoying this, “Did you truly believe that scanning your face into an Imperial database wouldn’t have consequences? The entire galaxy will know of your identity upon my order.”

“Do it,” All Din cares about is the tiny body of the child crumpled motionless in the corner of the sterile grey room. What else does anything matter now? He can hardly breathe for the rage; the grief. His child –

His child alone, without him, without anyone except those who wanted to hurt him –

Din doesn’t bother to look as Gideon raises his hand to signal to a subordinate to go ahead and transmit the information. Instead he watches, muscles straining against the heavy duty binders locked around his arms and ankles, as a trooper crosses the room towards the child.

_Grogu –!_ It feels like his son’s name tears its way directly out of Din’s heart.

The tiniest flicker of a green ear and then large eyes blink open. The trooper comes to a sudden halt, staggering, as the child sits up and cocks his head. The binders click open, falling with a clank on the floor.

“ _No!_ ” Gideon whirls back towards them, but Din can’t say he cares about that either.

“ _Baba –!_ ”

He’s at his son’s side in an instant, scooping the little one up into his arms. Shoving his helmet off so not to hurt the little one with the hard edges as Grogu buries his face in Din’s neck with a wail, tiny hands clinging onto his cowl.

“I’m here,” There’ll be time for more later. For now, Din just strokes his son’s forehead with a gloved thumb when Grogu peels his face back to peer up at him, eyes massive as they take in Din’s helmetless head. The expression on his father’s face.

Din’s cheeks might be wet, but he smiles.

“Rest now,” As he tucks his son gently inside his loosened cuirass, he hears the distinctive hum of the darksaber igniting far too close behind him.

“ _You_ –” Gideon, it seems, is for once quite satisfyingly without words.

“What else did you expect?” Din asks him quite honestly as he rises, and it’s easy, the fight that breaks out after.

It’s all of it so very easy. Because this isn’t how it happens either.

\--

“I am no Jedi,” It’s not a dismissal. The small woman leans in carefully to consider the child within Din’s arms, lenses refocusing audibly as Grogu makes a wondering sound, reaching his arms up towards her face.

Din’s breath feels stifled inside his helmet; it’s like he can’t get enough air. The throb of blood in his ears nearly all he can hear.

It doesn’t stop the certainty he feels.

“But you can train him,” He doesn’t want to say this. He does all the same.

“I wouldn’t say that much,” The wrinkles on Kanata’s face deepen with her smile as Grogu curls tiny fingers around hers, “However I might be able to locate one who could help put him on the right path.”

So this is it then, Din thinks.

“Oh,” Kanata’s tone changes; she blinks and chuckles, tipping her head, “Oh my.”

“Yes?” Despite himself, a little tension leaks into Din’s voice.

“I get the impression this one is convinced he is already on the right path,” Kanata touches her finger lightly against Grogu’s nose, making him giggle and bat at her hand. She turns her gaze up to Din, “He’s quite insistent about it.”

“So you can’t help us,” Din doesn’t sigh. He shouldn’t be grateful for this outcome. In a way he isn’t.

But in another way, he very much is. He won’t be obliged to hand his child over to a stranger – not now; not yet. If it could somehow be true and Grogu _is_ already on the right path –

If it could somehow be true.

But Din must continue looking even so, must exhaust all possible avenues until they are certain. He can’t forget Ahsoka’s warning; can’t risk the likelihood he will die in battle and leave Grogu undefended; can’t deny that it would benefit his son to be around others with a similarly long lifespan.

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Beckoning for them to follow her, Kanata leads the way out of the private side room and down the corridor towards the crowded cantina, “You’re searching for Grogu’s people as well as any Jedi too, are you not? Because you must know that those two things aren’t necessarily the same.”

“I do,” There is no one else around them and the doors to the cantina closed, the noise coming from it enough no one there would overhear. Nonetheless, Din is sharply aware that he hasn’t told her the kid’s name.

“Come,” There’s a knowing glimmer in Kanata’s eye as she pauses to glance back at them, not seeming to require any more of an answer, “I have many contacts worth speaking to.”

“All right,” Once again Din doesn’t quite sigh. Then there’s a moment in which Kanata disappears into the cantina, the doors shutting after her so he’s alone in the corridor with his son.

“Are you responsible for any of this?” Din raises his helmet just enough to give the child in his arms a look.

“Mmm,” Grogu blinks up at him in what appears to be his equivalent of a shrug. He’s also chewing on something big enough he almost can’t close his mouth around it.

“What even is that – no, don’t answer,” Din cuts the question off, along with the following one _and where did you get it?_ Grogu’s already swallowing, already pushing up within Din’s arms to nudge his tiny forehead against Din’s jaw, squealing in amusement at the prickle of facial hair.

It takes no thought at all for Din to drop a kiss on the top of that tiny soft head, smiling just a little as tiny hands fly up to pat at his chin.

“Baa –?” Beaming, Grogu nestles in closer for a moment, before wriggling in the implicit demand to be released.

“All right,” Setting his son down in the corridor even as he lowers his helmet, Din next opens the cantina doors.

Exclaiming excitedly, Grogu scuttles in ahead of him at full speed – but Din’s right there behind him, watching out for him and watching over him both at once.

This might be how it goes. But then again, it also might not.

\--

“I’m no Jedi,” The human woman pulls the helmet off, revealing a pale face and long dark hair – or maybe she will do, if the galaxy arranges it so that they meet her someday.

“Nor are you a bounty hunter,” Din agrees. He doesn’t point out his knowledge of what else she is and is not.

“I was a bit more successful at it in the past,” Smiling, Organa looks at the child, “Now you.” Her voice turns a little absent, “I’ve never met you, have I. So why should you feel familiar?”

“Mmm?” Cooing, Grogu strains to reach out for her.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Organa takes half a step back. She gives him a contemplative look, a complicated expression rising in her gaze despite the friendliness of her face, “My brother might like to meet you, but he’s not been in touch for a long time. He’s been careful to ensure no one knows where he is, in fact, so I’m afraid I can’t even tell you how to contact him.”

There seems to be a whole number of things that go unsaid in her brief pause.

“Having said all that, maybe it’s better that you don’t go seeking him out,” Shaking herself a little, the woman shrugs. Half turning back towards the Rebel encampment they’re at the edge of, she crooks at grin at Grogu, “Anyway, kid, you like food?”

“Does he like food,” Din’s mutter isn’t quite lost beneath Grogu’s excited squeal.

“I have food,” Organa shoots a look up at Din, “You want some free dinner?”

“We’re not joining your cause,” Din warns her as Grogu pats demandingly at his father’s vambrace until he falls into step, “But Grogu would appreciate a meal.”

“We all have our own paths,” Organa shoves her hands in her pockets as they walk through the camp in the direction the smell of cooking is coming from, “At least take a box or something for yourself when you leave.”

“Hmm,” In the end Din takes two – one for himself and, after he concedes defeat to a pair of big soulful eyes brimming with hope, a second dinner for the kid.

“Thank you,” Din tells Organa, while Grogu cheerfully waves.

“I would say ‘may the Force be with you’,” Her arms folded, Organa smiles, “But it already is.”

They eat together in the cockpit of the ship once they’ve left the planet, heading off together back into the stars, Din’s helmet placed carefully off to one side. The food could be better, in truth. But it also could be much worse.

And Grogu, being Grogu, joyfully scarfs down every bit.

\--

Whatever will happen eventually, when they’re back together again – who can say. But this is what Din wants. His child with him, safe as can be and well fed. Happy.

That would be enough.

That would be everything.


End file.
